I don't know why
I keep writing sad poetry.

I'm happy now.
I truly am.

my life is getting better
and my scars are fading

and I'm so proud because
at thirteen, I thought that
by now I would be dead.

so I don't understand.

how could I be so happy
if my mind is still
conjuring up these thoughts?

I'm finally looking
forward to the future,
so why is my mind still
thinking about the past?